


Preparations

by Toricchi



Category: Dragon Knights | Dragon Kishi-dan
Genre: M/M, Plot What Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-08-06
Updated: 2008-08-06
Packaged: 2017-10-06 00:40:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/47780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Toricchi/pseuds/Toricchi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's no stopping Alfeegi when he's up to something.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Preparations

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Animegoil for beta.

A waste of a Friday night, spending it lolling around on Alfeegi's couch, but maybe there was a chance he could talk Alfeegi into something a little more exciting. Dinner, maybe, and drinks; dancing if Alfeegi was pliable enough. The itch to slough off the workday week was growing stronger, all that pent-up energy rising in the stern quiet of Alfeegi's quarters and nowhere to turn it to. He rolled over and watched Alfeegi as he opened and closed drawers.

Alfeegi getting out the manicure kit was nothing new. Alfeegi was fastidious about everything, and that included his grooming. His hair got trimmed every six weeks exactly; he kept hand cream in his desk to get rid of ink stains; and his fingernails were always clipped to precisely one-point-two-five centimetres.

"Get me some water, would you," Alfeegi said as the acidic smell of nail polish remover filled the air. Alfeegi never painted his nails any fun colour, of course; just with clear and nail strengthener, but it was obviously time for a change. Ruwalk fetched water from the jug on the nightstand. Maybe he could persuade Alfeegi into trying something different. Not that he didn't love looking at Alfeegi's hands as they were, but...

"Mauve's quite popular now, you know," he tried as he put the bowl down and took his seat opposite him.

"When have I ever indicated to you that I care the slightest about your silly trends?" Alfeegi said, absorbed in swiping every trace of polish off his nails and not even looking at him, and Ruwalk hid his hands a little self-consciously. It _wasn't_ silly.

"Well, what else brought on the little vanity show?" he retorted, watching every little movement of those strong, lean hands. Alfeegi _hated_ being called vain; even now his eyebrow was twitching at the word. He insisted he was just particular about quality, but there really wasn't any other explanation for the man's obsession with his own upkeep.

"You'll see," Alfeegi said.

Oh, so he was being mysterious tonight, was he? Maybe it wasn't going to be a boring Friday night after all. That knowing smirk of his had appeared on his face now, but Alfeegi could never keep up the act for very long; he just wasn't patient enough for it. A little coaxing, a little prying and he'd have it out of him.

"Do I get a hint?"

Alfeegi rinsed his hands in the water, checking fussily to ensure they were perfectly clean. "No."

"That's not fair," he said and stopped as Alfeegi got nail scissors and file out. "You're not going to use them on me, are you?"

Alfeegi only rolled his eyes, but he'd seen that expression far too many times by now for it to deter him.

He worked slowly, shaving off miniscule slivers at a time, and for a while Ruwalk just watched the look of concentration on Alfeegi's face. But the process really was excruciatingly slow -there was thorough, and then there was _this_\- and close contemplation of Alfeegi's hands usually tended to turn his mind to other things. He shifted in his chair. It wasn't hard to think of something else they could be doing on a Friday night.

"Not to malign your manicuring skills, but isn't that a little short, even for you?" he pointed out, just because it was taking so _long_, they could have been in bed ages ago by now, when he realized that he was actually onto something. Each nail had been reduced to the thinnest strip of white, short and blunt, no half-moons peeking across his fingertips. Any change of routine was significant when it came to Alfeegi, and there had to be something prompting this one.

"I can't exactly do just the one hand, you do realise," Alfeegi said, buffing one finished hand against his trouser leg and starting on the other one. "It looks strange."

"I... what?" Alfeegi's drift was hard to catch sometimes but he was never random like that. Alfeegi looked up at him and smiled _that_ smirk again, the one that said he knew something Ruwalk didn't, and that he was going to have to _beg_ to get it out of him. "What has that got to with the length of your nails?"

"You'll work it out, I'm sure," Alfeegi said indulgently, in a tone that said he doubted it.

"But why?" he persisted.

Alfeegi sighed. "I should remember by now it's unfair to have a battle of wits against the unarmed," and Ruwalk was curious enough by now to let that one go past without protest. "If you absolutely must know, it's so I don't hurt you."

"Hurt me? How could you hurt me... _oh_." Alfeegi flushed just the tiniest bit, but that was enough to give him away: he'd come a long way (a _long_ way) from the shy, inexperienced man Ruwalk had taken to his bed that first night, but it always took him a while to build up his confidence when he was about to spring something new and kinky on him. Not that it should, because Alfeegi had never led him astray before, and he had fond (_very _fond) memories to prove it. "Wait, but you've never worried about that before."

"This is rather a different case, Ruwalk," he sayd, apparently deep in concentration on the corner of a thumbnail, but his voice had just the slightest nervous edge to it.

"How so?" and Alfeegi flexed his fist—-he had gorgeous hands, smooth and lean and strong—and ran his thumb across his fingernails, like he was checking for snags, one eyebrow slightly raised in challenge.

"Oh." He swallowed. "You want to... _all_ of them?"

"Do you think you can do it?" he said, so soft and slinky, the Alfeegi he was used to behind closed doors, gaining confidence at his reaction.

"I. Um." The mere juxtaposition of _sex_ and _Alfeegi_ usually prompted his brain to shut down; with the sight of those hands combined with the knowledge of what Alfeegi was planning to do with them, Alfeegi was really pushing it to expect any kind of coherent response. "God, yes. Hurry up and finish already," he said, autopilot, already thinking about what it was going to feel like, Alfeegi inside him, _all_ up inside him.

"You can't rush these things," Alfeegi said, starting on his index finger.

"No seriously, I'll help, it'll go faster," he said and grabbed the scissors. Alfeegi slapped his hand away.

"You're insane if you think I'm letting you anywhere near me with those things," he said, storing the scissors safely out of his reach. "You'd most likely cut my hand off. Just be patient."

He'd never been good at being patient, though, and especially not when Alfeegi had just dropped a bomb like that on him. And if Alfeegi had been going slow and careful before, his pace was _arctic_ now, each stroke deliberate and measured, the small sound of metal clicking loud in a room suddenly quiet except for the pounding in his ears. Alfeegi knew exactly what he was doing, damnit; every time Ruwalk shifted in his seat --he was starting to feel pretty damn uncomfortable-- he looked up, smirked, and went back to his glacially-slow task.

"Alfeegi..." he said, and it was only _barely_ not a whine. It was getting harder and harder to keep his hands off Alfeegi--or h imself.

"Get off if you want," Alfeegi said without looking up at him. "The more relaxed you are, the easier it is."

_Jesus_. "You have to not say things like that," he said shakily, digging one hand into his thigh to distract himself.

Alfeegi _loved_ taking him by surprise, and even after this long he still managed it more easily than he should. He could be downright filthy when he was in the mood, like he obviously was tonight. Maybe that shouldn't turn him on (it probably shouldn't turn him on so _much_) when Alfeegi said something like _that_ in the exact same voice he ordered him to find his stapler in, but it _did_.

"Really, Ruwalk, I haven't even touched you yet. Try to have _some_ control, as difficult as it may be for you." Alfeegi was making an attempt to scold, but when he looked up, his eyes were glittering with pleasure; there was nothing he liked better than making him squirm, which he could do with alarming ease.

"Sorry," he offered, but he wasn't really sorry, not even close to it; Alfeegi was shaking out the cloth across his lap and sweeping the detritus into it, putting everything away neatly back into its box. By the time he had finished he was a quivering mess of anticipation, and when Alfeegi reached across the table to scratch gently at his hand he almost jumped out of his skin.

"No edges?" Alfeegi asked, running the tips of his fingers across the back of Ruwalk's hand, and he had to swallow before he could answer.

"It's fine," he said, voice rough in his throat.

Alfeegi drew back. "Maybe I should just..." He reached for the kit again, and Ruwalk grabbed his wrist. Alfeegi's eyes darkened in satisfaction.

"It's good, really, can you just..." He stopped because the other option was begging and it was way too early for that yet. Alfeegi gave him a smile that was all teeth—predatory, it sent shivers down his spine—and slid around the table and into his lap.

"God, you're evil," Ruwalk said, suddenly breathless with Alfeegi pressing down in his lap. "You do know that, right?"

"You shouldn't make it so easy," Alfeegi reprimanded, and cupped him through his trousers, fingers grasping and rubbing, and being easy was really the last thing he was worried about. "Shall we?"

He caught a glimpse of those smooth, pale, hands on him: perfect, rounded nails, knuckles gently bumping against him, and couldn't move until Alfeegi whispered in his ear: "Nervous?"

"With you? Not a chance. I'm sure you've got this all planned out." He leaned back against the couch and let Alfeegi pull him out of his seat. "Well?"

Alfeegi pushed him towards the vicinity of the bedroom and came up behind him, slipping his hand into his back pocket and squeezing possessively. "I don't think you have any idea what you're in for."


End file.
